The beeping was what woke him up. Like one of those really obnoxious alarm clocks, except much softer, and no one was hitting the snooze button. And besides, he didn't even remember setting an alarm clock, so that couldn't be it.

There were voices too, he realized as that incessant little beep started dragging him out of sleep. One was very deep and sounded vaguely familiar, another was a stiff tenor that he had never heard before, and the third... Stan? Was that Grunkle Stan? No, that couldn't be right. What would Grunkle Stan be doing in Mr. Mason's house?

Mr. Mason's house. That had to be where he was, it only made sense. But that didn't make sense either. Whatever he was sleeping on, it was much softer than the carpet in the study. And, besides, Mr. Mason never had company. Well, except Mabel.

That beeping. Couldn't someone turn it off?

Slowly, leadenly, Dipper cracked open his eyes. This definitely was not Mr. Mason's house. It was too well lit, for starters, and from what Dipper could see through his squint, there was no art anywhere. Just white, and light shades of green and blue. And this place smelled different, too. Like some strange cross between a laundry room and nursing home. Not the scent of wood and clay permeating Mr. Mason's walls, and certainly nothing burning...

Burning. The fire. He had made it out.

The voices in the room became clearer as he approached waking, and he could now recognize that deep tone as the voice of Sheriff Blubs. "Sorry, Stan," he was saying. "I ain't doubting that this guy was in the house, I'm just saying there was no sign of him when we got there. No body, nothing. Most likely, he skipped town before that fire started. I put out an alert to the state troopers, though. They'll be on high alert, considerin' the charges that we're likely to get against him."

"Dipper's not going to have to go to a trial or anything, is he?" Stan's voice. That was definitely Stan.

"We'll see what happens once we track down that Mason character. At the very least, kid's gonna have to give us a statement.

"Right, I figured." Dipper heard some shuffling near the foot of his bed, and then soft footsteps. He opened his eyes all the way, and saw his uncle standing beside him, leaning down and peering at him. "Hey, kid, you're awake!" Stan said, a grin breaking out across his face.

More shuffling, and a balding man in a white lab coat joined Stan. "Dipper?" the man asked. "Can you hear us?"

Dipper shifted his position so that he was sitting up a bit, resisting the urging to groan as he felt a throbbing in his head. He gave the man a small nod.

"Do you know where you are right now?" the man asked.

"I can take a wild guess," Dipper answered. He winced. His voice was raspy and gravely, and felt like it burned his throat.

The man, the doctor, patted Dipper's hand. "Don't worry about your voice," he said. "You gave us a bit of a scare when you first showed up, what with all the smoke you inhaled, but we've fixed the worst of it. You'll just have to be sure to keep it exercised for the next couple of weeks, but be careful not to strain it."

"Yeah, so, no opera singing for a while," Stan quipped. He was still smiling broadly. "Good to have you back, kid."

"You too," Dipper replied, smiling back. He turned back to the doctor. "My head..."

The doctor nodded. "You're on painkillers right now, but it'll still proably be quite sore for a while. Got quite a fracture there, so you had to get staples. Don't worry; there was no brain damage, and the hair will grow back. We've also had to treat you for a broken hand and second degree burns on your shoulder. You went on quite a wild ride back there, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess," Dipper said. He looked down at the cast on his hand, and also noticed the gauze wrapped around his shoulder.

Stan cleared his throat. "You two wouldn't mind if I had some alone time with my nephew, would you? We've got a bit of catching up to do."

"Not at all," the doctor said, backing away. Blubs, who'd been standing opposite Dipper's bed, followed him out. He gave Stan and Dipper a quick nod in farewell, then closed the door quietly behind him.

For the first time, Dipper got a good look around him. He was lying on a white bed with a gray-green comforter. Several multi-colored wires were attached to his arms, connecting him to a machine beside him that had been the source of the incessant beeping. A screen on the machine displayed four line graph reeling across it, which probably gave vital information to the doctor, but which to Dipper just looked like a stack of neon mountain ranges. A white nightstand and a few green cushioned chairs made up the rest of the furniture in the room, and on one of the chairs sat a turquoise teddy bear that looked like it may outstrip Dipper in size. Dipper gestured to it. "That's not from you, is it?" he asked his uncle.

Stan chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, Soos came by a few hours ago. Said that giant teddy bears always speed up recovery. God knows what medical journal he subscribes to. But he's glad to have you back. We're all glad. You've had us worried sick for the past couple of weeks."

"How'd I get to the hospital?" Dipper asked.

Stan pulled one of the cushioned chairs up to Dipper's bed and collapsed into it. "Sorry," he said. "Getting old, have to rest my feet. Anyway, apparently Mabel's the one who found you. In Mr. Mason's house no less. Seems she ran in there while it was on fire and came out dragging you behind her. Couple of the firefighters gave her a nice long tirade about that. But it sure brings up a load of questions. The first being," he leaned in, "how the hell did you end up inside Mason's burning house?"

Dipper frowned and bit his lip. "I'm not sure you'll believe me," he said.

Grunkle Stan leaned back. "Try me anyway. I'm always up for a good story."

So Dipper took a deep breath and plunged right in. He recounted everything, from the moment he went to confront Mr. Mason to his encounter with his sister's sculpture, all the time ignore the grating hoarseness in his voice. He tried to gauge his uncle's reaction, but Stan's face betrayed no emotion as he listened. As Dipper wrapped up, Stan let out a long sigh. "So, sounds like the police aren't gonna have much luck tracking that guy down," he said.

Dipper stared. "So you believe me?" he asked. "After all you've gone on about how the supernatural is fake?"

"That pterodactyl incident may have given me a change of heart," Stan replied. "Besides, I don't see why you would lie about this. And in any case, it makes more sense than your sister's theory. She figured you'd been lost in the woods the past couple weeks, found Mr. Mason's house, went to him for help, he knocked you out thinking you were a burglar, then he panicked and left the house with the stove on."

Dipper gawked at Stan, bewildered. "But- but that's completely-"

"Yeah, I know," Stan said. "She was grasping at straws. I figure she didn't want to consider the alternative."

"Where is Mabel, anyway?" Dipper asked, glancing around as if Mabel was about to jump out from behind the curtain.

"Waiting room. Fell asleep in Soos's lap about twenty minutes ago. She'll probably want to see you now that you're up, but it's nearin' four in the morning, and the little munchkin needed some sleep."

Dipper smiled. "Well, when she wakes up, let me know." He made to stretch his arms out, but gasped as he remembered his injured shoulder.

"Yeah, you'll wanna be careful with that shoulder," Stan said. "Second-degree burns are nothing to sneeze about it."

His nephew groaned. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"Not near as bad as it could have been, but you'll still probably ended up with some good scars." At Dipper's crestfallen face, he added, "Hey don't sweat it kid. After all, ladies absolutely love a guy with scars."

"Seriously?"

Stan nodded sincerely. "Oh, yeah. Trust me, there's nothing manlier than a nice battle scar or two to prove you're tough. Me, I've got a particularly dashing one on my left buttock, and Carla always said-"

"That's way more than I needed to know, Grunkle Stan," Dipper groaned, but he was smiling. Stan grinned back, and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but he was interrupted by a soft knock. The two of them turned their heads to the door, and Soos poked his head in. "The doctor said Dipper was up," Soos said.

Dipper nodded. "Nice to see you, Soos," he said.

"You too, little guy," Soos replied, "but there's someone else who wants to see you even more."

He opened the door wider, and a brightly-colored sweater topped with a mass of curly hair zipped into the room. "Dipper!" Mabel cried. She bounced toward him and landed on her knees beside him on the bed, a bright smile that had been absent for weeks back on her face as if it had never left. "Dipper!" she squealed. "Agh, it's so good to see you! Can I hug you? Am I allowed to do that? It won't hurt your arm, right?"

"No, no, it's fine." He barely got the words out before Mabel had yanked him into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh," she gushed, "it's so good to have you back! Don't you dare ever go missing on me again, okay? Don't you dare!"

"I won't, I promise," Dipper said with a laugh. He pulled back. "And hey, I should thank you. Stan said you were the one who pulled me out of that fire."

"Aw, don't worry about it. Consider it payment for all those chores you did for me. Speaking of the fire, you've got to explain to me. How did you end up there in the first place? And where was Mr. Mason?"

Dipper grimaced and glanced over to Stan, who shrugged. "Erm... later, Mabel. It's a long story."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Oh, fine, I'll wait. But really, Dipping Sauce. It's just... it's just good to have you back."

"Good to be back," Dipper said. He returned Mabel's bright-eyed smile, a smile he hadn't seen in so long. Later, he thought. I'll tell her later.

A/N: Did- did I just finish? Was that the end? That, no, that can't be right. It can't be over already. I mean, I have that really sweet scene planned out in my head with the giant ferret attack, and I just needed a way for it to work with the plot, but if it's over... well, crap. That's a waste.

Fear not, though. I've got an idea in mind for my next Gravity Falls story, but it may be a while before I start posting, because I've got a lot of planning to do yet. In the meantime, though, my PM box is open, and I've decided to try a few one-shot requests. I may not be able to fill them all, since there are some types of stories I can't deliver well, but I'll do my best.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, Mr. Mason, the house, burned to death. Good riddance.